Weiss Schnee's Diary
by astridelta
Summary: My take on the events that led to, and what happened after, the "White" trailer. Rated T for no reason except what I felt like.


Just a quick one-shot I thought of while watching the White Trailer for RWBY :)

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN, NOR LAY CLAIM TO, THE RWBY SERIES, CHARACTERS, OR ROOSTERTEETH PRODUCTIONS. **(even though I wish with all my heart that I did...)

* * *

**_January 1st_**

_Father has asked me to preform at the Snow Banquet being held in honor of the company next week. However, I suppose that "asked" is the wrong way to describe his approach. Moreover, he __demanded__ that I sing, over dinner earlier. And who am I to say no? He was already...very angry due to some shipments of Dust that were on route to Vale were apparently stolen. Most likely the White Fang was behind the thievery. _

_At least, that's what Father said anyway. Now, however, I have but a week to prepare a song for the banquet, even though my musical instructor is away from the estate for some "family" issues, an illness of some kind. Surely his pay is more than enough to compensate for a doctor to stay instead of him? The rooms will be very quiet and lonely without him playing. Alas, though, I'm afraid I may have to draw up a score on my own, not that I am incapable of it. Rather, I suppose I am afraid that Father will not approve of it. _

_Writing a score for a musical instrument isn't too much of a task. However, it is __lyrics__ that trouble me the most. My English tutor says I am very gifted in the writing arts, however I tend to disagree. If I am any good at writing poems or simple one-page stories, then why has Father not read any of them? I know that he isn't so busy as to neglect my progress on my studies. He's actually very invested in my lessons. Just this morning he came to my math instructor and I in the middle of a lesson. He did simply sit there...but at least he was thoughtful enough to come by. _

_But I digress. I simply cannot fathom how to put emotion into words. I cannot even find what emotion I wish to express! My music tutor has always declared that emotion is the root for all music, and that music made for simple gain of fame or money is but pointless noise. Though I do not plan on becoming famous or rich, mainly because I am both of those already, I still cannot draw up any sort of feeling I wish to convey. Will my performance be mere noise, if I cannot put any meaning behind it? _

_**January 3rd**_

_After two days of agonizing over my upcoming performance at the Snow Banquet, I believe I have a decent draft of my lyrics! I have decided that a simple, accompanying piano part will fit nicely with the lyrics. I have overheard Father discussing with some of the coordinators of the event that he wishes for snowflakes to be cast from the ceiling onto the audience during my time on the stage. Wonderful! Father has taken the time to consider my performance!_

_I have yet to meet with him, however I am not quite sure I __want__ to. Perhaps I should leave my song a surprise for him. He may take more notice of the context of the song of he is not aware of it before hand. However, I am still rather proud of myself, for drawing this up on my own. I'm sure my musical instructor would be as well. At the very least, my math tutor seemed impressed by the piano part._

_I've heard rumors that the White Fang intend to sabotage the banquet, as well, which troubles me and seems to anger Father. He was terribly angry earlier this morning. He refused anyone entrance to his study and remained holed up in there for the better part of the dawn. I wouldn't dare disturb him of course. I have learned my lesson that Father is not to be interrupted. _

_I will continue to work on my song, and hopefully by the beginning of next week I can finalize the lyrics._

_**January 8th**_

_It is four days away from the Snow Banquet. Already I see some of our Faunus employees bustling to and from the amphitheater where the majority of the banquet will be held. I do feel somewhat sorry for them. I saw Father fire one, a young man with a monkey tail, simply because he had not wired the lighting in time. _

_Father has been in a sour mood since the news of the Dust shipments, and I'm fortunate to not be on the receiving end of his wrath this time. The Faunus, however...they are not as lucky. A part of me pities them. I don't know what Father would say if he were to learn of that. He has taught me that the Faunus are all criminals, that they live to serve us. But is that right? I don't know. It feels like it is, and yet at the same time, it feels wrong. _

_Perhaps it's just my imagination, but I've noticed he has been attending my fencing lessons more and more frequently. Ever since the near-failure of my last "real-life" training session, I've merely spared with my tutor without the aid of dust, or Myrtenaster, my "multi-action dust rapier". Today was the first day I returned to using Myrtenaster in my lessons. Before, I simply trained on sacks filled with straw or feathers, and I am afraid to admit that my skills with Dust and my rapier have dwindled since my last use of them._

_But the change did not seem to be very noticeable, for both my tutor and his apprentice seemed very impressed by my handling. Even Father looked surprised! I suppose, since he has not seen me with the weapon he gave me as a child since the accident, the difference in my level could have risen or lowered in accordance to his expectations. But, he seemed pleased, so I will accept his praise, however small. The mere fact that he has taken interest in my combat studies is a wonderful thing in on of itself._

_I've become side-tracked, it seems. My English teacher has told me that simply letting your thoughts flow is an excellent form of meditation, but Father has always taught me that you must remain focused on the task at hand. And that task is my performance for the Snow Banquet. I suppose that a good idea would be to write my lyrics here, lest I lose the sheet music I have composed for it..._

_Mirror, tell me something. Tell me, who is the loneliest of all._

_Mirror, tell me something. Tell me, who is the loneliest of all._

_Mirror, locked inside of me, tell me, can a heart be turned to stone?_

_Mirror, mirror, what's that behind you? Save me from the things I see._

_I can keep it from the world, why won't you let me hide from me?_

_Mirror, mirror, tell me something. Who's the loneliest of them all?_

_I'm the loneliest of all._

_I've decided that along with a piano in the very beginning the piece, a high-paced violin part seems appropriate. _

**_January 12th_**

_The Banquet is over._

_Many representatives of Father's partnering business companies were in attendance, along with some of the Presidents of the respective factions as well. Some brought their children, all of whom were around my age. We were told to go off somewhere else and get to know each other. After all, we will all be business partners with each other some day._

_However, it was all extremely awkward, to say the least. I suppose none of us were meant to be friends. Though it would have been nice to find at least one that I could relate to.._

_The amphitheater was filled to capacity, all three stories of it. The ceiling is open, and the moon was bright enough that the stage lights did not affect the brightness any during the performances. The orchestra was wonderful, and from where I could tell sitting at Father's side, he was pleased with how the night was going._

_And then I went to the stage._

_I believe my performance went smoothly. I was not nervous at all. It is unbecoming to do so, anyways. I felt calm, sure of myself. And I was hoping Father would enjoy the performance. My voice was in tune, as well as the piano and the violins. I must say, for only one rehearsal together, I feel we did well. However...Father had a differing opinion._

_After the Banquet when all of the guests were leaving, he pulled me aside into one of the smaller hallways that branch from the main entrance. He proceeded to lecture me, stating that my song set a poor example of the company. He blamed my music instructor for teaching me incorrectly and will fire him first thing in the morning._

_I don't understand. I thought my song was, well, perfect. It conveyed emotion, just as music is supposed to. Perhaps I used the wrong type of emotion? What was that Father wished for? It did not occur to me to ask him what he wanted from me before I performed. Maybe I should have done that. Perhaps if I had, I wouldn't feel so lonely as I do now..._


End file.
